Hunter's Instinct
by Icingdeath
Summary: After the events of The Thousand Orcs, Drizzt has become the Hunter. (Expanded plotline with other characters) Chapter 6 up!
1. Darkness Emerges

A/N: Alright, all you wonderful fan-fic writers inspired me to try my own, and very first I might add, fan-fic. So I may be shaky at first and reveiws would be extremly helpful for suggestions, corrections, complaints, compliments, whatever you'd like... Without furthur rambling, here's the first chapter! Enjoy!   
  
Chapter 1 - Darkness Emerges   
  
Night was spreading its mystical darkness across the land. A figure crouched on a rock summit at the edge of a steep drop-off glaring deep into a crevice, twenty feet wide at its broadest. The land was barren of foliage down in those depths. Not a soul stirred; only bones of dead animals, recently stripped of their meat, revealed evidence of life to the common onlooker. The creatures taking residence here at least tried to be secretive, the cloaked figure smirked to himself. The stench of rotten orcs and rancid meat could not be burned away by the penetrating sun that so stung their eyes, removing their physical presence for the time being. Scent was not needed to the trained eyes of the solitary observer, to whom evidence of inhabitants was visible everywhere.   
  
As the glowing red orb in the sky descended behind the distant Spine of the World peaks, a pair of lone lavender eyes shoot upward to soak in one last gleam of the crimson sunset light. A quick sting, still common after living on the surface for many decades, forced his sensitive eyes shut. Upon their opening, he reverted to the vision of an Underdark creature as the realms were suddenly encased with shadows of darkness. As if the light of the land was absorbed into his being, the lavender orbs flashed and burned a brightness that could rival the sun itself. The corner of his lips curled up into a wicked grin as movement below brought sound to his always alert, pointed ears. The orcs awoke to their preference of living habits under the cold moon and darkness.   
  
And with them arose the Hunter. This was his life, this was his only purpose. A shard of happiness crept into his soul as the drow began to nimbly move down the side of the cliff towards the orcs below, silently as death itself....   
  
A/N: So, what do you think? Drop me a reveiw if you would be so kind! Look forward to some action in the next chapter and my try at writing orc-ish (we'll see how that goes) if anyone is interested in reading of course. 


	2. Approach

A/N: Thank you all so much for your reviews!! Maffeoel: I may take the story in that direction, you're ideas will be kept in mind for future chapters. And yes, the first chapter was extremely short, but this one is A LOT longer...ENJOY!  
  
Chapter 2:   
  
Twin caves cut into the rocky cliff-side on opposites sides at the base of the ravine. A dozen orcs began stirring inside the one underground chamber. Kelet was the leader of this orc band and had a great love for playing the dictator. Like so many other orcs, they were headed to the call of King Obould. This group was a mixture of rogues from many different orc bands, uniting together for the journey to their king.   
  
At the very inside of the cave entrance a green skinned orc with shabby leather armor leaned upright against the rocky wall, a great axe in one hand. A rough yet relaxed breathing rhythm escaped his foul mouth. Kelet growled and rolled his sickly eyes as he stomped over to his "watch guard." A quick backhand across the orcs' face woke him from his slumber.  
  
"Argh! Vat in the..." the sleeping guard began, agitated for being awoken so roughly.  
  
"Damn, stupid creature!" Kelet growled in a low voice, spraying the other orcs face with spit. "Ye want to get attacked again?"  
  
He began to retort but was silenced promptly by another slap across the other cheek. The onlookers groaned to themselves. Kelet took more power over them everyday. To attack him would be a fool's errand, even the dimwitted orcs knew that. Their ragtag group of cowards who ran from their separate communities needed to stick together. Each had witnessed annihilation of their kin by a cloaked figure with wickedly sharp blades, one glowing a light blue. The reality was, join Kelet and the mass party of thousands for revenge or starve out in the wilderness alone.  
  
"Ye want tha' bastard Drow to cut yer throat?" Kelet continued his lecture in the rough orcish language, pacing around to glare at each of his group. Unknown to the arguing orcs, this exact dark elf was making his way down to meet them at the same moment...   
  
Bare feet moved deftly and silently from rock to rock. Nimble fingers guided the way down, never once loosing stones. His enchanted bracers keep him in perfect balance.  
  
Even the most unobservant would know of the orcs presence with the din they were creating. "Ye eat my food, ye stay awake!" Kelet yelled, this time not watching the volume of his voice.  
  
"Ye call this food?" A rebellious orc who'd traveled far with Kelet finally snapped back, holding out scraps of rotting food. The other orcs, such rebellious fighters amongst themselves, began to argue about any old topic. Some even drawing a weapon in a threatening manner.   
  
As the tension rose, the cave across the way became curious and began to peer over to the other side. Drizzt stopped for a moment as he watched the orcs, less than a dozen it appeared, rouse on the opposite side of the gorge. Another job to take care of, he mused to himself. Leaping down to the floor from his current perch, not all that far from the bottom, he sneaked to the other side of the expanse.   
  
With a glance back to the arguing orcs, he realized this would be a squabble lasting until sunrise at its current rate. Faster than a speeding arrow from Heartseeker's string, Drizzt unsheathed Twinkle and Icingdeath on cue with the burning image of Bruenor falling with that retched tower collapsing on top of him. A quick move and the Hunter was inside the cave, each blade already tasting the gross flesh of two orcs' throats. Silent gurgles of blood marked their death as they slumped towards the ground, dark oblivion already taking them before tendons behind their knees were slashed.   
  
The killer's cowl flew back loosing stark, white hair and an ebony complexion that reflected his gleaming purple eyes. The six remaining orcs were quiet with fear, their visage betraying their cowardice as each remembered the last time that saw this creature - when he had brought slaughter upon their homeland. This contemplative state caused the group two more dead bodies littering the ground. As a weak defense, one of the remaining drew a rusty dagger and flung it at the Drow. Easily sidestepping the missile, the Hunter brought Icingdeath in to puncture the thrower's heart at the same time.   
  
Two more drew weapons, one a sword and the other an axe. The last of the three staggered back to the rear wall of the cave, perfectly content to let his companions battle and die. With a glance from one to the other, a twisted grin on his face, the Hunter feinted a move to the right. Quicker than the orcs could fathom, a blur flew between them as Drizzt flipped over both heads and their meager defense weapons. Before landing expertly behind them, with both feet, he decapitated both heads. Both bodies fell forward, shocked expressions frozen on their rolling heads which looked even more sickly in death.  
  
The Hunter whirled around, an instinct telling him that the cowardly orc was attempting to cry out for help to his companions across the way. They wouldn't have heard him even if a blade didn't slit his throat, silencing him forever.  
  
Taking a quick glimpse around the cave the Hunter barely noticed his work that had dispatched the run-away orcs. Instead, sound from 20 feet away reverberated in his ear and deep into his soul. Elifain, Bruenor, Catti-brie, and all of his friends' deaths came back to haunt him in that moment. The rough orc voices sounded like laughter mocking him and all that he once believed he was. A lie, his life was all a lie. Tears that wished to flow were washed back inside through pure hatred. Whether towards himself or the orcs, it did not matter in this state.   
  
Growling as his panther from the Astral Plane would, the Hunter quickly crossed the barren rock. Bounding onto a boulder above the entrance to the cave he silently sheathed both blades in mid-air. Lying flat on his stomach, he took a moment to observe what he could of the overall chaos underneath the rock in the cave. Orcs were such agreeing creatures, he thought dryly to himself. Understanding most of the orcs' throaty language, he easily picked our the supposed leader of this band.   
  
"Don't blame me for you troubles!" Kelet screamed, clenching his fists, ready to pommel any who challenged him.   
  
"Obould help!" one shouted in excitement. "Yeah, him's mightier," another agreed while pointing an accusing finger at Kelet.  
  
"What makes you think him's want your smelly arse?" Kelet retorted in a sharp voice. Snarls were heard coming from every mouth.  
  
"Drow is to blame," one screamed which was answered by all with a cheer of agreement, first of the night.   
  
A rough laugh came from Kelet. "Aye, we find the bastard, cut his head, offer it to Obould!" Kelet thought that finally he'd got his underlings under control with that positive thought, until...  
  
The sound of a blade cutting leg muscles followed by a gurgle of the throat being cut marked the arrival of the Hunter. "Here's your opportunity," he whispered before spinning away into a dark shadow of the cave....  
  
A/N: Alrighty, the next part is already written and it's just as long, plus LOTS more action. I figured I'd break it up and give you a little bit of something to look forward to. If I get some reviews, the next installment will be up tomorrow.... 


	3. Orcs' Last Night

Chapter 3: Orcs' Last Night  
  
"Find him!" Kelet demanded.   
  
Despite orcs being well adapted to the darkness, the drow's evasive movements were completely confusing them. Another orc dropped dead. Suddenly, the small cave was fully emerged in a darkness that only those entering the realm of the dead would see in their last moments. Drizzt rolled out into the open air instantaneously after calling upon his innate drow powers.   
  
By this time of the night the moon had risen directly above ravine, casting it's beam down to illuminate the ground. Drizzt's elven features of his face accentuated in the light made his grim visage even more menacing. That treacherous scimitar Twinkle seemed to magically appear in his gloved hand, offering him a two sword attack. Both blades glistened in the moonlight, Twinkle being a rival to the moon's resembling light.   
  
A moment longer and the orcs managed to find their way to the exit of the cave through the impenetrable darkness. Eleven running orcs came bursting out of the cave, Kelet in the rear, enraged at their arguing allowing an attack. Upon seeing who exactly their attacker was - his white flying freely in the breeze that began to sweep through the valley - sent six of the group fleeing in fear off towards the left. Standing still, Drizzt lofted Icingdeath into the air and sent it hilt over blade through the air to embed itself in a departing orcs spinal cord. With his now free hand, the Hunter reached for his statue in his pouch. Calling softly for Guenhwyvar a black mist appeared, swirling around the drow. Five orcs stood dumbfounded while the other five continued fleeing, screaming the whole way.   
  
600 pounds of sleek black fur took the place of the dissipating mist, coming in with a great roar. The bellow still echoing off the cliff walls, Drizzt commanded, "Hunt and kill them," then ran off. Pacing her master, Guenhwyvar obeyed and took off ahead of Drizzt when he reached the fallen, and still twitching orc. Grasping the scimitar he ripped it violently and quickly free ending the creature's misery. Both weapons in hand, the drow kept his momentum by running up the side of the cliff.  
  
The screams of former companions, far off to their left, being raked to death with claws and a massive jaw, convinced the remaining orcs that they'd be smart not to flee. Although, a mad drow with two scimitars sharper than shards of splintered ice wasn't such an auspicious alternative either.   
  
Their species who usually charged into battle with enthusiasm, suddenly wanted nothing more than to be miles from this drow. The thought of being able to chop his head for a prize to their King was far from their minds.  
  
The five stood at ready though looking side-to-side truly confused by the drow's unheard of speed. They were completely unaware that their death-bringer waited above on a out-hanging rock.  
  
"Weapons ready!" Kelet shouted with as much courage and command as possible considering their current dilemma. The three lead orcs' spear, sword, and axe got no chance to be put to use.   
  
The Hunter swiftly dropped from above. Kicking sideways with both legs he knocked two orcs cold in accordance with slicing his scimitar through a third orcs back. A deep, yet fine line, ran from right shoulder blade to the lower left hip, blood soaking the filthy clothing. A wail of agony burst from his wretched mouth as another quick slice of the opposite scimitar sliced both legs muscles and tendons of the orc. It all happened in a matter of seconds.  
  
A sudden burst of adrenaline forced a fourth orc raging up behind the now landed elf, hoping he'd be unsteady after that amazing feat. That optimism was soon crushed with a deft twist of the Hunter's upper body, practically slicing the orc's upper torso in two. Flipping backward over the dying orc, the dark elf managed to avoid blood splattering his armor or green cloak. Another twist of the body before landing set the drow facing the last standing orc...Kelet.   
  
Sword and dagger in now trembling hands, Kelet tried to find that commanding voice so common to his voice-box. He had to say something threatening to this Underdark creature, the orc berated himself. Nothing came. Only a noise equivalent to a human whimper and a gulp came out as the drow stalked forward, shortening the distance between them with every bare-footed step.   
  
A blocking sword wielded in the left hand came up to meet the coming scimitar. As the blades clang, Kelet's dagger hand was cut off at the wrist by the other scimitar. A rough shout of pain and anger escaped the orcs' tusked mouth.  
  
"You were a coward then for running....and a coward now," the Hunter whispered in a low growling tone into the injured orcs' ear. Crossed weapons still feeling each other's metallic touch, the drow let his words sink into the rotted soul of the orc.   
  
"Mercy..." Kelet finally managed to croak through the pain that continually sent daggers up his right arm.   
  
A hint of Drizzt's former self broke through the haze of anger that distinguished the Hunter. It was the very poison of his normal, compassionate self. A quick movement of blades crossing in a X on the orc's throat brought his death upon quickly.   
  
With an expressionless face the Hunter turned back around to quickly slay the two unconscious orcs. All was silent once again after the storm that was Drizzt's darker being subsided.   
  
Guenhwyvar came strutting back to her master favoring one of her front legs. Apparently an orc managed to draw blood on the panther during the struggle before all were taken for dead. Nothing a quick rest in her home plane won't solve, Drizzt thought to himself. With a sigh he sent his only companion home, only to return was she would be needed in the next inevitable battle. Walking off silently, unscathed and very alone, Drizzt sheathed his blades. The fires of his lavender eyes dimmed for the time being....  
  
A/N: There you go, I hoped you all enjoyed it. I tried my best to make the orcs sound realistic and I hope I didn't play the Hunter up to much, or not enough. Reviews again would be extremely helpful! Can't thank you enough for the reviews I've gotten so far!  
  
Not quite sure where I'll take the story after this, so if you have suggestions let me know! (And Silverwolf7...I didn't go the Kelet head chopping route, but I hope his death scene was satisfying enough. hehe) 


	4. Realitly in Reflection Part 1

Finally back with an update. I broke it up into two chapters. Enjoy!  
  
Chapter 4: Reality in the Reflection - Part 1  
  
Two days had past since the battle, or rather the one-sided slaughter, of the orcs in the ravine. Drizzt spent his existence roaming the landscape with no tangible purpose other than retaliation, a lost soul soaring through the sky. He was a creature of nothing more than instinct, instinct to survive.  
  
He was alone, always alone. His presence was constantly unknown to any being in his vicinity. Food came when he found it and sleep was a rare luxury, troubled and fitful on those occasions. Visions haunted him always, things he refused to accept in his mind. His life was a lie...that thought screamed priority. A soul torn in endless directions, Drizzt was a mere shell of his former self. Searching it was, always searching for answers that would not come to the grieving Drow. Grief it seemed could get no higher.  
  
And so, any potential enemy rose an inner anger that boiled his blood. Sending energy, hate, and most of all concentration through every weary limb. A state of mind that sent his toned skills to even higher expectations. But when the inferno in his eyes became extinguished so did the strength of his body, weakened emotionally.  
  
The pain of lost loved ones could be dulled by the Hunter but it could not be washed away like the enemies' blood spilled by his scimitars.  
  
Deep in recesses of his heart the Drow knew that rational thoughts alone would help his problems. But for the moment, the two weapons of metal strapped to each side of his waist brought him relief, gave him answers. They were constant companionship, inanimate as they may be, he knew life when they were in his ebony hands. When an enemy was brought to the ground, lifeblood flowing out from an scimitar inflicted wound, he knew purpose.  
  
The truth was there in the one-horned helm Drizzt carriend...his friends were dead. Going back to Mithrall Hall to confirm the inevitable in his current state was most unwise.  
  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  
  
The lone dark elf sat at the muddy shore of a small pond of translucent water. His appearance was not nearly as magnificent as it once one. Pride in his dress or hair, although never of utmost importance, was now as distant as the time when he lived in Menzoberranzen.  
  
All was still in the water, silence met his sensitive ears.  
  
He sat there thinking to himself. How different life was out on the open landscape when Catti-brie was at my side. Her beaming smile and care-free spirit always brought warmth to his heart no matter what the circumstance. Drizzt's thoughts brought a tear welling in his eye. Blinking the moisture away he turned back to the current task at hand.  
  
Cleaning Twinkle's magnificent curved blade of the stains from the last death match, Drizzt stared down at his reflection in the water. If only it could be this easy to stare into his inner self and not just outside appearance.  
  
Heavy droplets of rain began to fall from heavy dark clouds up above, letting pressure go that had built up all day. The sunlight was waning and fast becoming evening. Dry dirt under him began to turn to mud from the flowing rain. Drizzt stood up figuring it was time he headed off. An image caught his eyes before turning away from the water. With a sense of curiosity and sadness he slowly turned his head back to his reflection. The truth of his life was displayed there.  
  
Drops hit his mirror's ebony visage, distorting the face and creating a creature he did not recognize. As he stood staring each drop seemed to take a lifetime to hit. Time itself seemed to slow to a near complete halt. His face contorted into an twisted expression that was a cross of incredulity, outrage, intrigue, and an even deeper sense of regret. Each drop fell like the fall of one of his friends, bringing it's stinging coldness down on his face with a cruel sense of reality. They were all lost to him, and guilt was driving into him. Drizzt felt the rain all to well on his flesh, but seeing the reflection made the storm worse. A maelstrom of emotion began to turn within his torn eleven form.  
  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  
  
Meanwhile, two frost giants wandered off from their camp of fellow kin. They reached the edge of a tree patch stopping at the small clearing. They stood there gazing at the backside of a creature frozen like a statue, a Drow by all appearances. One giant reached up with his over-sized hand to stroke his chin, a curious expression splayed on his face. Turning to his companion he asked, "Are all Drow that fascinated with water?"  
  
A chuckle answered his query. "One thing's for sure. We should never waste the opportunity to take down an unawares Drow." He went to step out into the clearing with a smirk on his face as he grasped a club handle tied to his back.  
  
"Are ye crazy?" the venturing companion whispered skeptically as he grabbed the arm of his friend. After a silent and questioning glare from the recently halted fellow he continued. "Could be one of Gerti's four pet renegades. We'd get our hearts pulled out in no time if we killed one of them Drow."  
  
Tearing his arm free the other responded dryly, "Not before our insides were cut out of our stomachs. Come on, where's the harm?" Nodding his head towards the Drow he continued, "Could be the one who's been slaughtering with ease around these parts. We could easily end that threat here and now." Proud of his logic he grinned.  
  
Still not convinced, the slightly fearful behemoth offered, "Couldn't we throw a rock at him, ye know...kill him quickly from a distance."  
  
Rolling his eyes the giant moved forward mumbling 'coward' under his breath. "All the more fun for me..." he stopped to turn around to face his companion again. "Besides, with us going to the smelly orc king," disgust was clearly apparent in his tone, "We'll have to share the wealth with those ruffians."  
  
"Fine," the cautious giant gave in as they moved in behind the motionless Drow, eager for a quick kill.  
  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  
  
Drizzt's mind was running on a rampage of death. The line between reality and illusional thoughts was growing thin, dangerously thin.  
  
His blade sunk into Elifain's heart. Rain pounded in his ears.  
  
Bruenor fell to an oblivion of rocks as fire missiles streamed through the air bringing ruin to the village around the crumbling tower. Orc laughter echoed in his mind.  
  
Wulfgar was in the foul Abyss being beaten by the damned Errtu and tortured without mercy.  
  
Drow surrounded his dear Catti-brie, pulling her down to the ground ensuring torment before her inevitable death. Blood caked her beautiful complexion.  
  
The rain now proved to provide a constant pain in his temple. His whole body was shaking, emotions running rampant. He felt helpless, nothing seemed to ebb these terrorizing thoughts.  
  
Vision of the pond that his physical eyes were transfixed on became blurred out by the death of his dear Halfling friend. Surrounding sounds of the forest were all but gone.  
  
The two beast approaching the Drow were coming closer by the second, growing with confidence as the elf remained motionless. Their fancy garments were now soaked from the turbulent weather.  
  
Deep inside of Drizzt's being, notice was taken of the approaching creatures. All his mind was tumbling down into the depths of deadly grief... but instinct remained. Danger alarms were sent racing to his brain begging him to take action against the giants's approach.  
  
A raging storm mirroring the weather whirled inside of Drizzt. The fighter tried desperately to draw his blades and snap him out of the inner grief. He knew he could not be this emotionally weak.  
  
Zaknafein fell off the bridge towards the burning acid as Drizzt screamed inside, trying desperately to push the illusional thoughts from his head.  
  
The two giants were now a mere 15 feet away. Danger was there, but the dark elf remained frozen. Two clubs were drawn from their backs coming forward in an attack position..... 


	5. Reality in Reflection Part 2

Chapter 5: Reality in Reflection - Part 2  
  
Drizzt knew through all the haze of horrible thoughts that he had to take action or die a miserable death by the creatures. He was left with but one alternative...the Hunter. His only means of survival. Calling upon the alter ego to battle the inner torment, he used the anger and hate, transferring it to outside strength. Lending his weary body the energy to destroy these newest threats by means of the very deaths that destroyed him in his very heart.  
  
All manners of sounds reverberated through the forest at the exact time. The first of many flashes of lighting brought thunder pounding through the landscape as a low scream erupted from deep inside the dark elf- sounding more like a low roar from a savage beast. His inner thoughts were all but washed away from his mind. His surroundings became highly toned as he was now fully alert to fight.  
  
As another stroke of lightning lit the landscape for a split-second, those 2 wicked scimitars appeared in gloved hands. Each blade gleamed for a moment in the flash before plunging back to darkness, save the faint glow of Twinkle and the bright lavender haze of the drow's eyes.  
  
The two approaching clubs on each side of the Hunter seemed as in slow motion to him. Both hulking pieces of wood were parried with a thin edge of his blades, quickly snapping back to decrease the force of the brutes strength that was used in the club attack.  
  
The urgency of the situation not 5 seconds ago became fully under-control as Drizzt channeled his inner rage into a controlled focus. To the two giants though, this dark-skinned creature seemed like a madman as he whirled both blades with expert ease and faster than either had ever seen weapons been wielded.  
  
The battle would appear a blur of movements if there were an observer to watch the spectacle. The storm in the dark sky was now in full strength, blasting the landscape with flashes of lightning rapidly. Each time the clearing was lit one if not both of the giants appeared to have a few more nicks, a red stream began to drip from their inner bloodstream. The giants' fury rose with each wound inflicted. Power surged through their pounding arms as their clubs swung faster than ever before. Legs kicked out towards the Drow to shatter his bones. Yet if they were enchanted with a potion of speed they still probably wouldn't get a whack at their once victim now turned assailant.  
  
The Hunter deftly dodged both of the mighty clubs. If one were to touch him, especially with the power behind the swings of the angered brutes, his prone elven form would surely be flung powerfully into the nearby forest. That was not an option in order to survive this fight. Each move was based on instinct, expecting the attacks before they were even carried out. Kicks from large legs were avoided and rolled around, each attack allowing his blades to sink once again into their flesh.  
  
Now enjoying the intercourse of ridding the realms of such creatures, the Hunter smirked as he performed his deadly dance. Drawing out the pleasure of the kill as his focus hummed throughout his body.  
  
Rain poured harder upon the fight and the mud of the ground became increasingly slick. His bare feet aided by the enchanted bracers easily faced this new obstacle (one which actually proved an advantage). The lumbering feet of the ice giants found keeping their balance along with focusing on the battle extremely difficult. Each slip of the footing caused them another slash from one of those deadly scimitars, unbelievably appearing from every possible angle. Blood that continued flowing began mixing with the muddy surface of the forest clearing creating more hazard.  
  
The behemoth - who was the skeptical one before the fight even began - finally lost traction and slipped straight onto his back. A faint smile crossed his face when he realized that the Drow was straight in front of him. Thinking his huge feet would knock the preoccupied Drow-who was scoring wounds on his companion at the moment- he raised his head to peer down his large lying form to see...  
  
Nothing.  
  
The hunter expertly flipped into the air as the feet approached. He landed on the chest of the fallen behemoth in accordance with ducking a blow from the standing giant. In utter surprise the toppled giant gasped and widened his eyes as the Drow landed on him. That was his last sight...each scimitar tip shot downward through an eyeball, blinding him forever.  
  
Expecting arms to lash out after the sight stealing attack Drizzt let Icingdeath score it's metal across the neck. As the behemoth lay in the throes of approaching death Drizzt leaped from it's chest and over top of the standing giant's head. Before the beast even registered the move, both tendons in the back of his knees were slashed viciously. A shout of anger and pain erupted from the creature's mouths as the blood seeped down the his lower calves. He instantly fell forward crashing on top of his giant comrade.  
  
The blinded and near death giant had his breath stolen viscously from his lungs as the lumbering weight of his companion came crashing down on his chest. A final gasp of air rushed from his lungs along with the his soul's last waking second fleeing the inflicted body.  
  
One last cry of rage and thought of revenge emitted from the living giant before all his will to fight was leached out by excruciating pain.  
  
Staring down at the piled creatures, lavender eyes aglow in the teaming rain, the dark elf moved forward to silence the one with the final killing slashes. All was silenced in the forest, except for the pulsing rain and the pounding of the Hunter's heart slowing after the rage that made him so strong in battle.  
  
He carefully cleared the blood from the giant's surprisingly ornamental clothing and sheathed each in his belt. In his earlier preoccupation he had not taken note of these rather well attired and quite comely giants in comparison to the rogues one usually encountered. He realized quickly that these were giants from the Jarl Grayhand network that his companions encountered at Fell Pass. So, the network is still loaning their elite frost giants out, the elf mused before storing away the knowledge and dropping the thought from his mind.  
  
He turned from the death scene. As he moved to evade the growing waters of the pond that he had sat at earlier he wisely avoided staring into it. The memory of what his tormented mind saw before was too painful for him to take another look. For in that reflection he saw a reality he wished not to view.  
  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~  
  
Drizzt didn't silence the giant's anguish filled roars quick enough to avoid detection....  
  
Not to far from where the battle took place, the band of more behemoths camped in the night. None were too concerned about their missing two, as they had a tendency to wander off. They proceeded at their normal jobs and activities through the miserable rain chattering amongst themselves.  
  
Common conversation was the continued complaints of their trek to serve the weakling humanoid Orc king. But Gerti's orders were the law in their network and the leader of the expedition, Toklur, enforced them strongly. He was his queen's champion giant, usually at her beck and call beside her throne. But orders were orders and he set out with the group he currently traveled with.  
  
Above the low din of their camp two roaring voices met his ears between deafening thunder claps. Turning his head to put his richly ringed ear in line with the voices he realized quickly that they belonged to giants, his giants! He silenced everyone near him to hear better. But by the time everyone was quiet -and the storm allowed silence-so was the fight he heard a few seconds ago.  
  
He waited a minute longer for any further noises, but all that was heard was the constant patter of the torrential weather. Killed?! Toklur, head behemoth and prized fighter to Gerti, was enraged.  
  
Dismantling the camp with a quick pace he set his crew off to find the murderer of his precious ice giants heading conveniently they way they were destined to travel....  
  
Thank you so much for the reviews (especially the recent ones that got be back on track to update.) I'm no expert on ice giants so sorry if they weren't written well. ;) Please review again!! Thanks. 


	6. Beginning of the End

Chapter 6: Beginning to the End   
  
A/N: Had trouble coming up with a chapter title...any better ideas?   
  
The gloom of morning dissipated as the bright sun beams broke through the fog. The lone  
dark elf ran through the forest, leaping over fallen logs - avoiding any obstacles that could  
slow his constant pace.   
  
His ebony face void of expression, he noted the suns rising with interest. The symbol of  
his life before, the elation he had felt looking upon that sight on the first day he stepped  
onto the surface world.   
  
A brief pause.   
  
A single tear shed from his eye as a ray slipped through the forest branches, lighting his  
face for a mere moment before the sun continued to rise up again into the sky over  
Faerun.   
  
Shadows descended once again upon his face. Angry at the moisture running slowly  
down his cheek Drizzt shock his head violently from it's nostalgic state.   
  
Instead he focused on the situation at hand. Pointed ears listened in the quiet, still woods.  
Amongst the random noises of wildlife he heard his prey, ever on his track. Yet, giants  
could only move so fast and they were far from catching up to the swift elf.   
  
Or, is that what he wanted? Pondering this thought, Drizzt realized -and had for some  
time- that the living companionship (besides Guenhwyvar) he had now was in the brief  
time before the kill.   
  
The moment when his heart raced, the Hunter inside him swelling in joy. Parrying,  
striking, attacking...fierce battle against a foe that deserved to be removed from the lands.   
The fire lit anew in his lavender eyes.   
  
Perhaps he would slow his pace, perhaps he would find the companionship - short lived as  
it may be - very soon.   
  
******   
  
"Wulfgar!"   
  
The barbarian wheeled around setting his strong legs and grasping his war hammer just in  
time to swing at the orc inches from his back. Covered with countless small wounds from  
the previous battle and blood -his and that of his enemies- coated his entire body.   
  
Weariness that would drop any other human to the ground was fought off with a grimace  
set on his unshaven face.   
  
After the smelly creature fell to the ground, gasping some last words in his rough orcish  
language, Wulfgar spared a glance to his female companion kneeling on a rock summit  
above him.   
  
He sent a silent thanks to Catti-brie for the warning that saved him another wound in the  
back. Determined, he started to strut over to the next enemy.   
  
A silver streak flashed in front of him, blinding his blue eyes before impaling itself in the  
orc. Surprised at first but then relieved, Wulfgar lowered his war hammer.   
  
"Good shooting," he murmured admirably as Catti-Brie sprang down from her shooting  
post to join him.   
  
Auburn hair falling in slight curls around the human's face, her green eyes glanced around  
at the forest clearing. It was littered with orc bodies (she counted 10).   
  
Some lay with an arrow from Heartseeker embedded in their flesh while others were  
clearly smashed by the strength of either the war hammer or Wulfgar's fist.   
  
"Is there anywhere in the realms not infested with these creatures?" The question was not  
meant to be answered but Wulfgar still noted the venom of the last word, contempt and  
almost, just almost, a sense of hopelessness in her accented voice.   
  
"Come on. Let's find us some food and head back to the camp, I don't want to stray  
from..." his deep voice caught in his throat.   
  
"I know." A solemn and understanding voice interrupted him. The two adopted children  
of Bruenor, King of Mithrall Hall, moved on.   
  
******   
  
"He won't last long."   
  
"Please...try harder. He can't...he can't..." Regis was headed near a state of panic. A fine  
sheen of sweat covered his chubby halfling face. Collecting himself he stated calmly, "He  
cannot die, not while Catti-brie and Wulfgar have gone."   
  
The dwarven clerics surrounding the bed -on their current makeshift camp heading to  
Mithrall Hall- were quiet for a moment. "As much as we don't want to see his passing,  
maybe it's for the best." Another pause. "Yes. This is not living Regis. You know that.   
Bruenor is a warrior."   
  
Silently wishing that his dear human companions were there he grasped Bruenor's cold  
hand. "Damn those orcs, damn Obloud." He hissed in denial, a frustration sweeping over  
the normally calm halfling. "Don't go, Bruenor, hold on...." his voice faded to a low  
whisper just as a bare whisper of breath exhaled and inhaled from the mouth of the King.   
  
Sighing, a cleric reached for Regis's shoulder to pull him away so they could perhaps try  
something more to help the situation.   
  
Suddenly, an arrow -crude in make- slammed into the back of the cleric.   
  
"We're under attack! Everyone to battle." The call went out, ringing menacingly in the  
ears of the camp as the cleric fell into Regis's lap. He was dead.   
  
"No..." Regis gasped as a charge of orcs swarmed into the field, worgs leading the way.   
  
A/N: I'm attempting to expand the plot line from this chapter on. Don't worry, it will be  
different then the events of The Lone Drow ;) May be adding original characters soon as  
well. (Thanks to Suzeann for the helping me with the idea for the rest of the story!)   
Please review, much appreciated!! :) 


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